Scents of a Sunken City
by quietbang
Summary: Every futile battle has someone who believes in it.


**A/N This is a combination of three AUs I've always wanted to right- a detective!Jack AU, a homeless!Daniel AU, and a s******!Daniel AU (first person to guess the third AU correctly wins internet cookies and a shout out.) **

**Oh, right: I do not own these characters. I just play with them sometimes. **

The kid looked miserable.

Rail-thin, arms wrapped protectively around his chest, he huddled near the side of the building, clutching his raggedy tweed overcoat tight against the driving November rain. His bare feet were filthy, and overlong sun-streaked hair flopped over his wire-framed glasses, one of which had a missing lens.

Jack sighed. This was the worst part of his job. The kid couldn't be more than nineteen, and if it was up to Jack the only police response the rich old woman's complaint would get was a sound informing that she, that is, the old lady, was an entitled bitch, followed by a trip to the woman's property to ensure that the kid had something to eat.

But that wasn't the way it was, and he didn't make the rules. So, instead, with a sigh, he lent over and cleared his throat.

"Hey, buddy. You need to find somewhere else to stay," Jack said softly.

There was no response.

Jack leaned in for a closer look, but spied no obvious signs of intoxication. The kid was just tired, bone-tired, and his body was shutting down to protect itself from the cold.

Jack gazed at the boy in consternation, noting as he did so that the feet, hands and cheeks were chapped and bloody from exposure. Even from his distance of about a metre, he could hear the rasping rumble as the sleeping young man struggled to breathe.

Jack sighed again. He had to wake the kid up, even though he knew darn well that this was probably the first uninterrupted sleep the young man had had in a while.

He'd wake him up, and, if nothing else, take the kid down to Sam's youth centre, get a square meal into him, before he went back out into the bitter Chicago evening.

He grit his teeth and reached down, grasping the boy's shoulder with a firm, callused hand.

In an instant, the boy's eyes flew open, and Jack found his arm quickly bent behind his back as the boy jumped into a defensive position.

Fuck. That was such a rookie mistake, and one that he, of all people, should know better than to make.

Immediately, Jack raised his other hand in a calming gesture, showing his empty palm.

"Hey," Jack said cautiously, in tone much the same as that he would use to calm a frightened animal, "It's alright. I just had to wake you up. You can't stay here, buddy. What's your name?"

Jack saw a mix of surprise and fear flit over the man's face- along with something else he couldn't quite quantify- before it was quickly suppressed. Now that the man was standing, Jack re-evaluated his age to 21, maybe 22. His eyes were haunted, wary, but they were also a breathtaking shade of clear blue. He glanced uncertainly from Jack, to the ground, and back to Jack again, his tongue darting out of his mouth to moisten raw, cracked lips.

Jack cleared his throat pointedly, and glanced down at his wrist, which was held in an iron grip.

Blushing, the young man let go.

"What's your name, kid?" Jack asked.

An uncertain glance. "D-Daniel."

"Got a last name, Daniel?"

Silence.

"Of course you don't." A smirk. "Got anywhere to stay?"

"If I _did,_ do you really think I'd be sleeping here? Is homelessness all the rage with the rich kids, or something?"

Jack's smirk grew broader. "Any weapons?"

Silence.

Daniel's hand stole unconsciously towards his left pocket, before he stopped himself. A casual observer might not have noticed, but Jack had been waiting for that.

"Gun?"

He shook his head.

"Knife?"

Wordlessly, Daniel reached into his pocket and withdrew a battered switch blade.

Jack held out his hand, and Daniel gave him a mutinous look before dropping it there.

"I'm gonna give you a ride up to the mission, alright, kid? You can have this back then."

Daniel's eyebrows rose so high they threatened to recede into his hair. "Is that CPD policy?" He asked wryly.

"Prob'ly not," Jack admitted. But he wasn't comfortable leaving someone of Daniel's obvious age and size without a means to defend himself against predators.

"On drugs?"

"Do I _look_ like I can afford drugs? I assure you, food's much higher up on my to-buy list than _smack_."

His scathing look lasted for precisely 13 seconds before he doubled over as a series of coughs racked his body, leaving him breathless and shaking from the strain, all the while dabbing discretely at the bloodied corner of his mouth.

"Good," Jack said calmly, smiling. "C'mon, get in the cruiser. Let's get some food into you, maybe something for that cough. How old are you?"

"None of your damn business. And do I look stupid? I'm not getting into the car with some guy I just met."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I assure you, your virtue is safe with me."

"Well, _that's_ 10 years too late," Daniel muttered.

"Whaddya say?"

"Nothing."

"Look. Kid." Jack crossed his arms. "You can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Either way, you end up in the damn car. You can't stay here."

Daniel scowled at him for a moment, before standing up and following Jack into the cruiser.

He was visibly shivering, and shot Jack a thankful glance when he turned up the heating.

A few blocks passed in silence before Jack's curiosity got the best of him.

"How'd you end up on Abydos St, anyways?" he enquired gently. "Don't get many bu- transients- 'round these parts."

That was true. Abydos was a rich, residential enclave, far away from the death and despair of downtown and the east end.

Daniel snorted bitterly. "I _was_ down in the Docklands, till the goddamn CPD decided that we couldn't stay there anymore."

Jack tensed. The Docklands tent city was one of the biggest- and best functioning- tent cities in North America. It had functioned for years under an unspoken policy of 'live and let live', and was actually one of the safest places for a homeless person in the city, serviced as it was by Janet Fraiser and her band of non-profit doctors and do-gooders.

"Daniel," Jack said calmly, "Who shut you down?"

"What does it matter? Some fuckin' pig."

"Daniel," Jack said again, with a slight edge to his voice, "_It matters._ Who was it?"

The department had very strict rules- both official and not- about not harassing the homeless population.

"I don't know. Some asshole. Maybon, Mayburne, something like that."

Jack's heart stopped. "_Maybourne_?"

"Yeah, that sounds right. Maybourne."

Well, fuck. It was common knowledge that the Councilman Kinsey had stooges all over the city departments, and anyone with any brains could tell you the long and noble history of police corruption in Chicago.

The councilman represented the city's rich west end, and had been elected on a platform of 'family values', whatever the fuck that meant. One of the main tenants of his campaign had been promising to 'do something' about the homeless problem.

Which was ridiculous, of course. Anyone with any experience with actual homeless people- hell, anyone with any _brains_- could tell you that the best way to stop homelessness was to attack it before it started; that is, to increase the funding to schools, meal programs, non-profit medical care, and the like. A child could tell you that just moving the homeless from one part of the city to another didn't make one good goddamn of a difference.

Jack knew this. For Christ's sake, there'd been a time, not all that long ago, when he'd been dangerously close to joining their echelons himself. He knew that more often than not, what these kids- and they were mostly kids, kids and women and the mentally ill- really needed was some food, a doctor, and someone who gave a damn.

He glanced over at the man in the seat beside him. Despite the heat blasting out of the register, he was still shivering, and his eyes were glassy with fever.

Making up his mind, he signalled to turn into the parking lot of a coffee shop. Least he could do was get the kid something to eat as recompense for waking him up. Even though he'd have to have done it anyways, regardless of a complaint- it was too cold for someone to be sleeping outside without risking death from exposure.

Yanking off his seatbelt, Jack stood to exit the car.

"C'mon," he said, when the kid didn't move. "Let's get some food into ya."

The coffee shop was dark, damp and dingy, but when you opened the door a puff of coffee-scented steam hit you, and the food was good, two things that went a long way to atone for any other sins as far as Jack was concerned.

Judging from the longing in his eyes and the audible growl of his stomach, Daniel felt the same way. A few minutes later, they were ensconced in a grimy booth, a coffee and sandwich in front of each. Steam was rising off Daniel's jacket, filling the room with the pungent, musty odour of damp wool.

Jack wrinkled his nose. "Hey, kid."

The sandwich was set down, and Jack found himself bearing the full brunt of those eyes staring directly at him, accompanied by pursed lips.

"Yes?"

"Take off your coat."

A wary glance.

"I'm not gonna _take it_, fercryingoutloud! It won't dry properly the way it is. Not to mention, it stinks to high heaven."

A glance downwards, a slight crinkle of the brow, suspiciously pink cheeks the only outward sign of embarrassment.

After a tense moment, the damp wool was being removed. Jack, who'd turned back to his food, looked upwards at the muttered curse.

The kid was carefully, painstakingly peeling the jacket off his left arm, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"What's wrong?"

A roll of the eyes. "It hurts like a bitch, that's what's wrong."

"Can I see?"

An incredulous look. "You're kidding, right?"

"C'mon." Jack reached over and lay his hand on the injured arm. "It could be serious."

"It's not.""How d'you know? Or are you a doctor, now?"

"I was a medic in- a long time ago. It's not serious." Daniel tilted his chin stubbornly.

Jack's grip on his arm increased, but Daniel showed no signs of yielding. With a sigh, Jack got up and stepped to the other side of Daniel, nearest to the injured arm.

He let out a hiss of sympathy. Two nasty-looking stab wounds marked the upper arm, and clearly the coat had become entrenched, as several small rivulets of blood were running down the weather-beaten skin.

The wounds themselves were suppurating and hot to the touch.

_Jesus._

"That looks like it hurts."

"It does."

"You should have a doc check it out," Jack pointed out.

A shrug.

"How'd you get it?"

"Abydos."

"You got stabbed on _Abydos?_"

"What's your beat?" Daniel asked suddenly, seemingly changing the subject.

"I don't have one. I'm a detective, not a black and white."

"They send detectives to shove along bums, now?"

Jack snorted. "I was on my break nearby, when the lady who owns the building complained. Sorry bout that."

"You're not a black and white?"

"I'm too _old_ to be a black and white."

"Hmm."

"Hmm?"

"Hmm. What's your name, Detective?"

"O'Neill. Jack O'Neill."

"Ooh, a Mick."

"Stop changing the subject. How did you hurt your arm?"

"Sorry, mother," Daniel mocked. "Fucking A-Pop and his goonies. We had a run in down on Fourth and Abydos."

"The whore-house?" Jack tried to keep the tone of disapproval out of his voice.

" Oh, fuck no, man! I don't work there. I- have friends- family- there. I was in the street. I heard a- a _friend_ calling for help. Ran in, figured it was a john gone bad, y'know? And there was fucking A-Pop in the flesh, holding the kids at gun-point while he fucked my friend." Daniel's entire body had gone very still, and quiet.

"So what happened?" To a casual observer, Jack was just continuing the conversation, but anyone who knew him could have seen that he had turned on his internal tape-recorder.

"I got the drop on a few of his goons, most of the girls and their kids got out. Got a few good blows into A-Pop, too," he smiled grimly. "Before one of his goons comes up behind me and fucking stabs me in the shoulder. They got away."

"And the girl? What's her name?"

"Sha're." Daniel's voice dropped almost imperceptibly, and his whole being became shuttered. "They got her. Took her with them, her and her brother Ska'ara." His eyes glinted with anger. "We'll fucking find her, though.""Did anyone report it?"

A bitter smile. "I tried."

"What happened?" Jack winced internally. He was pretty sure he already knew.

"Your fine colleague informed me that only an idiot would believe a story about the rape and kidnapping of, and I quote, 'whores and deviants'. Seemed to think that I was trying to cover up my tracks, came damned close to accusing me of the murder of Ra."

"Who did?"

"A Captain Simmons, I think."

Of course. What an idiot. Everyone knew that Ra's death had far more to do with politics than it did with street life, but, well, that was to be expected. After all, this was Chicago, and if you wanted to live long, you didn't ask stupid questions.

"Shit. Daniel, I'm sorry." He was, too.

"Yeah, well, should've known better than to go to the fucking pigs, anyways. We'll settle this ourselves."

"Don't be stupid, kid."

"I'm not stupid, Detective. If I was, I wouldn't be alive." He smiled, a broad, fake smile.

Well, the kid had a point. Young as he was, if he was stupid, he wouldn't have lasted this long. Not with the gangs in this city, where there seemed to be more every second. It wasn't enough to just have Bloods and Crips and Hell's Angels- no, they had to have Goa'uld and Ori and Wraith and Genii, too. Nobody with brains went out alone after dark, and most people didn't do it during the light, either. Not when it was easier to buy a handgun than a fucking apple.

Jack knew that he should say something, should encourage the kid to follow the official channels- but it was clear that he'd been fucked by the official channels time and time again, and, if Jack was honest to himself, he wouldn't have trusted them either.

"Will you make a report? To me, I mean."

A shrug.

"Daniel, please. You can't take them down by yourself."

"Who said anything about doing it by myself?" He stood, and, wincing, dug around in the pockets of his tattered jeans. He pulled out a few sodden dollar bills, and thrust them at Jack.

"Thanks for the food. I'll be off."

He made to walk out the door, but Jack grabbed his good shoulder.

"Daniel- wait. Let me take you to get that looked at."

"Can't afford a doctor."

"Well, d'uh." Jack rolled his eyes. "And take your money- it was a gift, and that's too much anyways. Christ, Daniel, you're a cheaper date than my wife." He tried to put the money back in Daniel's hand, but he wouldn't take it, so Jack reached around and tucked it into the kid's pocket.

"Let met take you to Doc Fraiser's, okay?" And fuck, Jack wasn't even going to think about how the kid had gotten the money, he wasn't, because he was a cop and he would have a duty to do _something-_

"Okay," Daniel said at last, breaking into Jack's reverie. "Okay."

The clinic was on Twenty-Third Street, cracked pink siding a bright spot amongst the toothless gums of charred factory skeletons and crumbling tenements. Jack pulled up, and before they had time to get out of the car, a young girl came flying at them, long brown ponytail flowing behind her in the tailwind.

"Daniel!" She screamed gleefully. "Daniel! Guess what?"

Surprised, Jack glanced at the man next to him to see him grinning, broad and brilliant, and Jack again found himself forced into a mental readjustment as to his age. When he smiled, he looked fifteen.

"Cassie!" Daniel called as he got out of the car. "What's all this, then?"

"I got an A in social studies," Cassie said with a smile. "Mom says it's all thanks to you. I got you a present to say thank you."

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you did, did you? Anyways, I can't take the credit when it was you who did the work."

Jack raised a hand in greeting. "Hey, Cassie."

Cassie barely spared him a glance. "Hi, Jack."

Daniel looked at him curiously. "You two know each other?"

"Yeah," Cassie said distractedly. "Daniel, are you here to see Merry?"

"No, I need to see your M- wait, what happened?"

"Someone got rough with her. She won't say who… Mom's worried she's got, you know… It. She's trying to convince her to go to a hospital."

"She probably doesn't want John killing anyone. Is she okay?"

"She's in bad shape. Mom says she needs surgery," Cassie's eyes bugged out "-Wait! That means you're sick! What's wrong, Daniel?" Her voice was plaintive, worried.

"Nothing, kid," Daniel said, patting Cassie's hand. "Your friend over there just wanted me to get checked out. I'm-"

"-Daniel Jackson, if the words 'I'm fine' come out of those lips, your ass is mine. Understood?"

By now they were inside, and Cassie and Jack both bit back smiles at the words from the redhead emerging from the back.

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Honest, Jan, I'm-"

"Sst!" shushed Janet. "Sit down, Professor."

Jack raised an eyebrow at Cassie. She shrugged.

"Mom always calls him that. It's cuz he's so smart."

"Ah."

"Now, Daniel, I could hear your breathing from across the room. What else is wrong? You'd never have come here otherwise."

"I didn't c_ome here_ anyways."

Jack rolled his eyes. "He has a nasty wound on his right shoulder."

Janet rolled _her_ eyes. "Of course he does. What on earth do you think you're playing at, Daniel? How long ago did you get hurt?"

"A couple of days. Over on Abydos, you heard about that?"

Janet's mouth tightened. "Yes. Merry told me."

"Merry did? But she wasn't there."

"I guess some of her friends were. Word gets around. Has there been any word on their whereabouts?" She glanced at Jack.

'Don't look at me," he said. "I only heard about it half an hour ago. Once your done with him, though, Danny here is gonna come give me a nice full report, and we'll see what we can do."

Without turning his head, Daniel gave Jack the finger. Then, searching Janet's face worriedly, he asked "What's wrong with Mer? How did she get back here?"

"Hmm?"

"She got hurt over in Pegasus, right?"

"How'd you know that?"

"Because that's where everyone gets hurt in this city. Stupidest place in the world to trick. Wasn't John with her?"

"She wouldn't tell me much, but from what I understand, no, he was not. I don't think he found her until a few hours afterwards, judging form the injuries."

"Is he here?"

"No, and I didn't ask what was so important that he'd leave when his partner's as bad as she is."

"That was probably for the best."

"That was my way of thinking." She knotted the thread and neatly snipped the end. "There you are, darlin'. Now, I've got a few prescriptions for you, so why don't you head on back and visit Merry while I get them ready? See if you can't get her to go to the hospital."

"She won't go."

"She _should_."

"Would yo_u?" _Seeing the surprise on Janet's face tinge with anger, he chose that moment to leave for the back.

It wasn't much, really. The Doc and Cass pretty much lived here, in the apartment above the clinic, leaving the back room with the odd feeling of being both a day surgery and a mud room; ointments, iv stands, and a hospital bed jostling for space with neatly stacked boots and old comic books.

"Fucking _hell_, Rodney." He pulled the thin cotton blanket off to get a better look.

The figure on the bed gave a muted sound of protest. The elaborately teased blonde hair was caked rust brown with blood, and one of the eyes was swollen shut. Her shirt was off, displaying mottled black and purple bruises, again caked with blood and dirt. Jarringly, the breasts remained perfect, silver scars gleaming in the half-light. She turned over, glaring as balefully as one can when one is both topless and covered in bloodied body glitter.

"What the fuck happened?"

"What do you think happened, genius?" Rodney snorted. "Nothing that hasn't before, nothing that won't again. I heal quick."

"Rodney-"

"_Don't_ call me that."

"John does."

"He's allowed. Call me Mer."

"Fine, _Mer_. You need to get this checked out. There could be internal bleeding." Gingerly, Daniel began probing the inflamed tissue.

"Janet already checked me out. For fucks sake, I know this may come as a shock to you, but I actually do have more important things to do than lie here all day."

"What, like turning tricks?"

Mer turned white and looked down as though struck.

"We need the money," She muttered mutinously. "People will pay extra if I look like this."

Daniel scrubbed his face with his hand. He felt old. Tired and old.

There had to be a better way.

**A/N Please review. It's not that _I'm _ insecure, but the box... well, let's just say it has some self-esteem issues.**


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